


Mummy Knows Best

by WhatLocked



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Changing POV, Crepes are wonderful and no-one can tell me otherwise, Its no wonder where the boys get it from, M/M, Mortifying interruptions, Mummy is manipulating, Naked Men, Poor Mycroft, Poor Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 22:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14146155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatLocked/pseuds/WhatLocked
Summary: In a different world, when Mycroft kidnapped John for the very first time, after he met Sherlock, John forgot to mention it to Sherlock.In that different world, after Jeff Hope had been shot, Mycroft doesn’t greet them at the crime scene but there is still their late night meal of Chinese, in which then Sherlock and John both returned to Baker Street and tumble into bed together for a night filled with hot, sweaty sex (as it should have been all along).In that different world, the Holmes brothers belatedly realise that John Watson is not actually such an easily manipulated pushover and could in fact spell out a lot of agonising pain and trouble for them.  And all because mothers love him.It must be the jumpers.





	Mummy Knows Best

~~~~~~~~~~

**Sherlock**

Sherlock stretched and felt his back click in three seperate places.  When he relaxed back against the mattress a grin stole over his face. He didn’t even need to open his eyes to know that John was still in his bed.

John Watson.  A very common name for a very uncommon man.  Sherlock had seen something hiding under the surface, right from the get-go.  It was why he had invited him to to view the flat in the first place. After John had shot Jeff Hope in the chest, he knew that the second bed upstairs was out of the question.  Thankfully, John felt the same way.

Sherlock rolled to his side and opened his eyes.  There was the man. The man who had limped into Sherlock’s life not even 48 hours ago, looking wrecked enough to appease Sherlock’s smug side.  He had done that to the buttoned up, orderly, ordinary looking man.

John’s military neat haircut was sitting up in all directions, except where it was plastered to the side of his head, from where he had been laying for most of the night.  There were creases in his skin along his cheek from the pillow he had been lying on. They were still quite deep, indicating that John had only rolled onto his back a very short while ago.  His usually tense face was slack, relaxed, beautiful, even in sleep. His arm, shoulder marred by a still relatively fresh gunshot wound, was slung up above his head giving Sherlock’s eyes uninhibited access to John’s torso, stretched out next to his.  The skin was littered with small bruises, some maybe a bit bigger than they needed to be, all put there just a few hours ago by Sherlocks lips as he had made John lose control bit by agonisingly slow bit. Sherlock decided that there was still too much skin unmarked by those lovely little pinky-red spots.

With a plan to remedy that particular problem, Sherlock positioned himself between Johns splayed thighs and set his lips against Johns collarbone and set to work, moving down the man’s body.

“Mmm morning” came a sleepy hum from above him and a hand briefly brushed through Sherlocks hair before it dropped back down to onto the bed next to them.  If that was all the response he was eliciting from John, then he wasn’t trying hard enough.

Sherlock moved his lips further down Johns chest and latched onto his nipple.

The hum this time was a bit more enthused and Sherlock felt John roll his chest up towards the suction of his lips, his hand coming up and settling in Sherlock’s hair this time.  That was more like it.

“Sherlock.”

Sherlock stopped.  That was most definitely not John Watsons voice.  

“Sherlock” came the voice again.  “Are you home?”

John’s hand dropped away from Sherlock’s hair and he made to sit up, but Sherlock pushed him back onto the mattress.

“I thought you locked the door last night?” John asked, looking from Sherlock to the bedroom door.

“Shhh” Sherlock hissed quietly.  “If we don’t make a noise, they may leave.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when feet could be heard coming up the short hallway and without another word Sherlock practically vaulted out of the bed and made for the door, hoping to stop whoever was on the other side from opening it.

He was too slow.  “Sherlock, are you in…” the voice was louder now as the owner of said voice had turned the handle and started to open the door.

“Yes.  Don’t come in” Sherlock yelled, trying very hard not to panic.  This could not be happening. He was going to kill Mycroft for giving them a key to Sherlock’s apartment.

“Oh, you’re awake.  We weren’t sure if you’d be up.  Mrs Hudson said you had a case on last night.”

Sherlock stayed behind the door, his body stopping it from opening any further and he moved his head around to the gap that was open to stop the person from seeing in the bedroom.

“Why are you here?” Sherlock hissed, really wanting his unwanted guest to be somewhere else.  Anywhere else. 

“Your father had an appointment first thing this morning.  We thought you and Mycroft could join us for a brunch, down at Donald’s.  You know how your father loves the crepes there.”

“No, thank you” Sherlock stated and then tried to push the door shut, hoping his mother would get the hint. 

She didn’t.  What she did do was thrust her foot in between the door and the door frame to stop the door from closing.  Damn her sensible shoes to hell. Why couldn’t she be like all the other old biddies in high society and wear something completely gaudy and totally impractical just because it had a certain name attached to it.

“Sherlock, dear” she said sweetly.  Sherlock was not fond of that sweet tone.  That sweet tone had proceeded many a spanking when he was younger.  “It wasn’t a request. We will wait for you in the living room.You have half an hour to get dressed.  I know how you like to spend time on your hair…”

“Mummy” Sherlock hissed.  This was so embarrassing.

It was then that a dawning look came over his mother’s face and Sherlock just wanted to die.  Right there and then.

“Oh, have you got someone over?” She whispered excitedly, far too loud still for it to be kept between them.

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut and breathed out slowly.  Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he never actually woke up and this was some horrid nightmare.  

“Oh” his mother squeaked happily.  “You must invite him to brunch.”

“No” Sherlock said, firmly, but it was no good.

“You are invited to lunch too, dear” she called out and Sherlock not only wanted to die, but wanted to burn to ashes so his mortified remains could blow away in the wind, as John called back “Thanks Mrs Holmes, I’d love to.”

The traitor was laughing.  Sherlock could hear it in his voice.

“Oh, none of that Mrs Holmes rubbish dear.  You may call me Mummy.”

_God_ , and Sherlock thought it couldn’t get any worse. 

“John” John called back.  

“It is good to meet you, John.  We will give you half hour to compose yourself too.”

“Thanks” John replied sounding far too happy for Sherlocks liking.

“Now that is sorted, can you let me shut my door” Sherlock said, conveying how pissed off he was at his mother in his tone.  She just smiled, reached a hand through the door and gently patted his cheek. 

“Half an hour dear, not a minute more” and then finally she retreated, back down the hallway.

Sherlock shut the door firmly and rested his head against the wood and clenched his eyes.  “ _ Please be a bad dream, please be a bad dream _ ” he chanted desperately to himself, quietly.

“Sorry” John giggled.  “That was all real.”

Sherlock took a deep breath in and held it, trying not to let out a whimper.  He would not cry in front of John Watson. Finally he pulled himself up straight, as composed as he could be, naked, mortified and trying to prepare himself for a morning with his parents.  

“Before we have our last meal together, John, I would just like to say that it was an honour knowing you and I have enjoyed every minute we spent together.”

John just laughed as he got off the bed and walked over to Sherlock, taking his hands in his own.  “Come on, you drama queen, we have less than thirty minutes to get ready. And I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that.”

“You, John, are about to get an education in Holmes’.”  Sherlock really was convinced that after brunch John would go back to his bedsit and Sherlock would never see him again.

John just pulled him down for a quick kiss.  “Mum’s love me” he murmured against Sherlocks lips and Sherlock could feel the smile on the other man’s lips.  “I haven’t met a mum I couldn’t handle, yet.”

Sherlock sighed and let John pull him into the bathroom and miserably though that there was always a first for everything.

~o~

**Mycroft**

Mycroft didn’t surprise all that often, but every now and then, it did happen.  Brunch with his parents was one of those times.

It wasn’t the fact that his parents had called him, politely ordering him to brunch that had been the surprise.  He had known for the past three days that his parents would be in London for an eight o’clock appointment, which meant that they would want to catch up for a meal before heading home again.

It wasn’t even that, when he arrived, they had managed to wrangle Sherlock along.  Mummy had a certain way with her children. It was like a black magic that neither of them could say no to, no matter how hard they tried.

What was surprising was that, sitting in between Sherlock and Mummy, was John Watson.  Clearly, there was more to his and Sherlock’s relationship than he had let on the night before.  

Mycroft inwardly cursed himself.  He should have given John the amount he was prepared to offer.  He shouldn’t have let the man leave without hearing it. The surveillance a romantic partner could offer on his brother would be invaluable.  He would have to try again. Maybe he could blackmail the man. Everyone had secrets, after all.

As Mycroft approached the table, fifteen minutes late, it was to the rest of the party already eating.  He eyed John, over his father’s head and gave the man a look that said that their previous meeting was hush, hush.  John gave a raised eyebrow and then looked down at his plate of food. Clearly, Mycroft’s message had been received.  

“Mycroft dear, I was starting to think I would have to ring that lovely assistant of yours” Mummy said standing up.  Mycroft leaned over and kissed her cheek before sitting down next to his father. 

“Problems at the American embassy” Mycroft offered as an excuse.  It was a lie. In fact, it had been a rather quiet morning. He just hadn’t wanted to concede to his mother’s demands so easily.  It wouldn’t do good to for her to think that she had him completely wrapped around her little finger. “Father” he nodded in his dads direction.  

“Morning, Mycroft” his father returned and went back to his crepes.

Mycroft laid the napkin out in his lap and looked up to his brother, his gaze sweeping over John in the process.  “I expect you have had a good morning, Sherlock” Mycroft said. His brother didn’t rise to the bait.

“Sherlock, say goodmorning to your brother” His mother admonished as the waitress came to take Mycroft’s order.

“Morning, Mycroft” Sherlock replied sarcastically and it earned him a clip across the back of the head by his mother, who had to reach behind John to do so.  Sherlock winced. John didn’t seem perturbed at all. He just continued to eat his full english breakfast. Sulkily, Sherlock went back to picking at his muffin and Mycroft bit back a smug grin.  His brother must be mortified at having John exposed to Mummy so early in their relationship.

“Mycroft dear, have you met John yet?” His mother asked.

All at once, Sherlock simply said “No” while Mycroft pulled on his best manners and said “I can’t say I have had the pleasure” and John, before shoving more bacon into his mouth, said “Yep, last night.”

Silence descended upon the table.  Even father stopped eating his crepes.  Mycroft glared at John, who was still happily eating his breakfast.  He could feel Sherlocks frown boring into the side of his head and he didn’t have to look at Mummy to know there was a confused look on her face.

Mycroft opened his mouth to say that John must be mistaken (and he would follow this up with a discrete kick under the table if he had to) but John swallowed his mouthful and said “He had some woman kidnap me off the street last night and I was taken to some shady warehouse where I then met, Mycroft, was it?”

Mycroft gave a short nod as he felt the colour drain from his face.  “ _ Mycroft _ then offered me money to relay information about Sherlock onto him.  Nothing that I would be uncomfortable sharing, of course.”

Sherlock choked on the muffin he was eating and the rest of the table went eerily silent.  Mycroft seemed to lose more colour and Mummy looked at her eldest, her expression furious.  Father just looked resigned, that this was his life.

Instantly, Mycroft’s mind went into damage control.  “Mummy, you must under….”

“What have I told you, Mycroft?”

“But…”

“We appreciate that you have worked hard to get where you are.”

“Yes, and…”

“And we understand that because of your hard work, you have certain perks and privileges.”

“Which, might I remind you, have…”

“But what have we discussed about using those perks and privileges to interfere and meddle in your brothers life without his knowledge or consent?”

There was silence. Sherlock had finished choking on his muffin and even John had stopped eating his breakfast, in favour of watching what was going on between Mycroft and Mummy.   Mummy’s expression, though, demanded an answer.

“That I am not to do so, unless it has been requested or agreed by Sherlock.” Lord.  There was only one person that could make Mycroft feel this small.  It wasn't presidents, dictators or even the Queen.  No.  It was the small woman sitting across form him.

“Right, so, has it finally sunk in yet?”

“Yeah Mycroft, has it finally sunk in?” Sherlock added, far too gleefully.  It didn’t last.

“Did it occur to you, Sherlock, that if you actually behaved like the thirty-four year old man that you are, and not a surley, spoilt teenager, maybe your brother wouldn’t be so underhanded in making sure you actually make it to retirement age.  Don’t think you are blameless in all of this, young man.”

This time Sherlock looked down, unable to meet his mothers glare.  Father and John went back to eating their breakfast. Mummy adjusted her napkin, took a sip of tea and turned her ‘ _ lovely _ ’ smile on John.

“Now, John dear, you must have some interesting stories to tell us about your time overseas.”

Mycroft barely noticed his fruit salad being placed in front of him as John eagerly regaled some of his more humorous stories to his parents.  Had Mycroft thought John Watson was going to eventually bend to his will, he had been mistaken. Even if the man wasn’t, apparently, more stubborn than Sherlock, he now had Mummy’s favour on his side.  She was even getting his phone number as they spoke. 

The only silver lining in all of this was that Sherlock looked just as miserable as Mycroft felt.

~o~

**Mummy**

Violet waved to the boys as their cab pulled away from the Kerb and settled back into the seat, finding her husbands hand with her own.  

"That went well, didn't it" she said happily.

Her husband just hummed out his agreement and gave his wife's hand a brief squeeze.  

"John is very lovely, don't you think?"

"Seems like his head is on straight.  Might be a good influence for Sherlock" he replied.  Violet smiled.  That was what her boy needed.  Someone to look after him, to keep him right.  She did love her youngest, but he did stray quite often.  It was his habit of being distracted easily.  It had lead to all sorts of trouble as he was growing up. Unfortunately, the trouble he got into as he got older became a lot more stressful.

"Yes, he does seem to have Sherlocks best interest at heart, and being a doctor won't be wasted, either.  Maybe now, someone will keep me up to date with what is going on in Sherlocks life."

Oliver gave another hum and looked out the window as the cab weaved through London streets, towards the train station. "And without offering the man a single penny."

Violet lifted her hand from his and patted his thigh, a knowing smile on both of their faces.  

"It would seem our eldest can still learn a thing or two from you" Oliver said, turning his gaze back on Violet.  She should have known he would know what she was up to, asking John about his career and actually showing an interest.  Not that it had been hard.  John was an interesting man.  He would have to be if Sherlock was going to put up with him.  But the fact that she had shown her interest was what did it.  It was what had wrapped John around her finger without him even realising it.  He hadn't thought twice about exchanging numbers.  

"Now, if only we could get Mycroft to act on his affections for that lovely DI that works with Sherlock" Violet said, putting her hand back in her husbands.

"Isn't he married?" Oliver asked, linking his fingers back through hers.

"Anthea told me over coffee last week that he caught her in bed with the dog trainer and that since then Gregory has been sleeping in the spare room."

Another small hum pushed through her husbands lips.  

"Maybe you could message him" Oliver said and Violet get a surge of affection for her husband and his lack of ability to use simple technology, such as mobile phones.  "And invite him back down to help me in the wood shed again.  He seemed to enjoy it the other month and he was very good at it.  Had a natural talent."

This time it was Violets turn to hum.  "Yes, I do believe Mycroft is due for a visit in a month or so.  I'll have to double check with Anthea, but I am sure the times could coincide."

For the rest of the trip back, Violet planned her sons visit up to their home.  She then made a note to also send a text to John, also inviting Sherlock and himself.  She had a feeling that with John around, she would be able to see much more of her son. Things had worked out rather well.


End file.
